


"Stiles was totally going to rethink marrying him if Derek made Stiles be a pirate."

by Survivah



Series: Raised by Wolves [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Childhood Sweethearts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Survivah/pseuds/Survivah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Derek and Stiles carve their initials into a tree, and Stiles wonders which last name to use.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Stiles was totally going to rethink marrying him if Derek made Stiles be a pirate."

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably make more sense if you read the first part of the series, but it's just childhood!fluff either way.

“Jeez, Derek, you’re gonna put my eye out. Then I’ll have to wear an eyepatch and be a pirate.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m good at knife safety.”

Stiles huffed and leaned further into the hollow of the tree they were nestled in. Derek thought he was so smart, just because he was a whole year older than Stiles. He could act as superior as he wanted, but Stiles was totally going to rethink marrying him if Derek made Stiles be a pirate.

Actually, Stiles was pretty sure that he would enjoy being a pirate, but it was the principle of the thing. If Stiles was going to sail the high seas and get treasure, he was going to do it because he wanted to, and not because Derek mutilated his face.

“Do you have the flashlight?” Derek asked as he examined a stretch of bark, “I think I found a good spot.”

The flashlight had mickey mouse ears, which were for little kids, but it was the only flashlight that Derek and Stiles could find in the Hale House that wasn’t in one of the drawers that was too high for them to reach. Stiles turned it on and directed the beam of light at the spot Derek pointed out. The light illuminated all of the dust motes swirling around inside of their tree, but Stiles didn’t care if the tree was dusty. It had been him’n Derek’s den since they were little, (on account of how it was like a cave that wolves would sleep in, except made of wood instead of stone,) and you don’t forsake your den because it’s a little bit dusty.

Derek carefully dug the tip of the knife into the mossy bark. It made a crunching sound, and Stiles silently apologized to the tree. 

Tongue poking out the way it often did when he was doing something difficult, Derek cut downwards in halting motions. The line that he was carving wasn’t coming out very straight, it sort of wiggled around like one of those worms that Derek kept pulling out of the ground to gross Stiles out with. The curve of the “D” was also jagged, so the carving was a strange interpretation of the letter all around, but Stiles liked it. He was pretty sure that letters carved into wooden surfaces weren’t even supposed to look good. It was like a rule or something.

“I like it.”

“It looks stupid,” Derek grumbled. 

“You’re stupid if you think it looks stupid. Now do the ‘H’.”

The next three lines looked better as Derek got the hang of the knife that was too big for his hand. “DH,” clearly legible in the circle of light from the flashlight. Derek moved further down and started etching a “+” below his initials. It looked like uncomfortable work. Derek’s arm was at an awkward angle, and since he wasn’t werewolf-strong like Laura yet, Stiles could see that the motions were making Derek’s arm ache. 

“Here, let me.”

“Ugh, Stiles-”

“It’s my initials next, I wanna do ‘em.”

“But you don’t know knife safety!”

“I was there when your dad explained it to you. I’m just not supposed to treat it like a toy.”

Derek let out a long suffering sigh, then held out the knife to Stiles, handle-first like his dad taught him. Stiles took it, then scooted forward on his knees to take Derek’s place. 

The “S” came out jagged, like a backwards Z, but Stiles was proud of himself, since the bark had been threatening to crack the whole time he was etching in the lines, so Stiles was just glad he didn’t accidentally calve off a big chunk of wood. 

“Wait, Derek,” Stiles began as a thought occurred to him.

“Hmm?”

“What do I put as my last name?”

It was a good question. Technically, the Hales had adopted him after his parents died, so he had their last name on most of his paperwork, but this wasn’t paperwork. This was carving initials into a tree, and Stiles was smart enough to know that that was really significant stuff right there. His legal first name wasn’t Stiles, but he still carved an S, because that was what mattered to him. It should be the same for his last name, right?

Not to mention, tree initials were commitment. The next time one of their friends came by to visit the Hale House, Derek and Stiles could show this to them, and then they’d know for sure that Derek and Stiles were serious. Those letters would be around for a long time, too, and Stiles didn’t want to come back years later and think that he’d made the wrong choice of initial. 

Because even though the Hales had been raising him for years, Stiles was born a Stilinski. He couldn’t just ignore that, it didn’t seem right. But then again, his last name was Hale, and even if it wasn’t, when he married Derek, (in the future of course, they’d have to be at least sixteen, probably,) it would be. Did Stiles really want to carve in a second “S,” then have to replace it when it became inaccurate?

Derek just looked at Stiles like he was stupid. “Put Hale. You’re my mate, aren’t you?”

“I guess so,” Stiles mused. It sounded right, but also not right. 

Then it hit him. Why bother picking just one?

So “SS” was carved into the tree, and Derek looked disappointed, but didn’t say anything, just stared out the entrance of the cave sulkily. 

Then Stiles brought the knife horizontally across the wood, then vertically, then horizontally, then vertically again. Derek heard the extra cutting noises, turned around, and stared.

“What is that?”

“It’s a hyphen.”

Years later, Stiles and Derek wandered through the forest behind the half-renovated confusion of the Hale House. 

“Do you even remember where it is?” 

“Give me some credit.”

“I dunno, Derek, we’ve been wandering around here for a lot longer than it used to take to find the den.”

Derek snorted.

“Oh you shut up. I know you still call it that in your head, too.”

To his credit, Derek managed to keep his face blank. “Don’t be ridiculous. We are adults, and we have a very nice adult den now. With furniture and everything.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, then jerked his head up. “I smell it!”

“The hell you do.”

“Sure, it’s right there.” Stiles leaped over a fallen log, grabbed a low hanging tree branch, and swung like a monkey to where an old, hollow tree held court, a gaping hole in its side that Stiles could crawl through. “I forgot how dark it is in here.”

Derek squeezed in beside him, and they contorted themselves into a position somewhat conducive to comfort in the cramped space. 

“Do you have your phone, oh prepared man of preparedness?”

Digging around in his pocket, Derek’s face squinched up in concentration before he tugged out his dark blue cellphone, and switched on the flashlight. 

Stiles smiled. “There it is.”

> D H
> 
> +
> 
> S S-H

“Warms your heart doesn’t it?”

Since Derek could never admit to anything warming his heart out loud, he just smiled faintly and ran his ringed left hand over the clumsy incisions, memorizing them with his palm.

**Author's Note:**

> Next: Derek gets a tattoo. And also wolfsbane poisoning for the first time.


End file.
